


To Shadow and Flame

by RedSunset



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Balrog - Freeform, Dangerous, Dark, Death, Gen, Orcs, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 04:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSunset/pseuds/RedSunset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boom goes the drum. Boom goes the drum of the lives of the dwarves of Moria. Their candles are snuffed out, one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Shadow and Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by obsessive watching of the first and second film :)

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

A group of dwarves, men, woman, and children, gathered in a room, looking supremely relieved as the continuous boom that had plagued them vanished, disappearing. An open casket was in the center of the room, a casket, a tomb of white marble. Only the best for the Lord of Moria, even in death.

A dwarf had been laid inside, with a red beard, sickly pale skin, and an axe clasped in his right hand. He was, without a doubt, dead. With excruciating slowness, the dwarves began to close the casket, and then they inscribed into the casket words describing the dead lord.

One of the dwarves, clearly the eldest of them all, read out in a firm and unwavering voice.

"Here lies Balin

Son of Fundin

Lord of Moria."

And as Balin was dead, soon would they all be. There would be no survivors. Moria would fall for the second time. First, it fell to fire and smoke, to a creature of the abyss, to a Balrog from another world. It would next fall to orcs estranged from Mordor yet not of Saruman, orcs who strived to find their own place to begin an evil operation for what they were convinced was best. For them.

The time of Moria's second fall approached, drawing ever nearer by the hour, and yet the thirty dwarves remaining out of the thousands that had first come to Moria did not move. There was faint hope that they were not alone, that others had managed to reach a room of relative safety as they had, but they knew. In their hearts, they knew they were the last. The last of the dwarves of Moria. The last of the resistance. They were still proud. For for all the things they would be last in, they would also be the last to fall.

Many of them had family members who hadn't made it to the safe room, or indeed family who did not live in Moria at all, but the former was most certainly dead and the latter would be of no use at all.

They were on their own.

They knew it was inevitable; they would fall, and they would fall quickly. But they could not afford to let themselves delve into despair. They still had time yet to work on a way to get out, to take the children to the surface and send them off to the dwarves of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain. Many of them had kin there, they would take the children in and raise them as their own.

The rest would fall in Moria with the rest of their kin.

Boom.

Time had run out. They were stuck, trapped. There would be no survivors.

"They're coming!" one of the dwarven women shouted. "They're coming!"

Another dwarf, this one old yet somehow strong, was writing furiously in an old leather journal, clutching it tightly in his hands. He scribbled down 'they're coming' and shut the book.

Boom.

Children broke down in tears, terrified, yet they knew as their parents, older siblings, aunts, and uncles did. They would not survive. Moria would fall, and children would not be excluded. This time, they would not fall to shadow and flame. They would fall to blade and rage.

They would fall.

Boom.

The sound of footsteps shattered the eerie silence that had fallen upon the dwarves of Moria, taking it and twisting it into something entirely different. Instead of an eerie silence, it became a fearful silence, broken again by the trembling voice of one dwarven child, clinging to its mother's skirts. "Mama, I'm scared."

Then it fell into place once more, locking the dwarves of Moria in a dark and contemplating silence, wondering what came after death, wondering what came after honorable death such as theirs would be.

Boom went the drum of the orcs.

A pole slammed into the doors, causing those with arms to rush towards the front, seeking to buy the others more time. It slammed into the doors again, but still the door did not tremble or break, instead emitting a terrible creaking sound, like stairs do a moment before a fall.

On the third time, the doors cracked slightly, leaving a bit of room for an orc to parade his axe into the room. He was swiftly killed, and the doors were sealed once more.

In the back of the room, no one said a word. Women and children were there, and there they waited, in mortal terror. Helpless and scared. They knew that they would die.

Boom.

One small boy covered his ears, clasping his hands over them to block out the sounds of the drums. He didn't want to hear them, to accept his fate even further. He didn't want to, he wouldn't, he couldn't.

He knew he would die, he did. That didn't mean that he wanted to hear the sounds of his approaching death.

Boom.

The pole slammed into the doors of the Chamber yet again, but still they held.

The dwarves inside were relieved but at the same time they were stricken, for they were only delaying their impending doom. The doors, not matter how sturdy, would not hold against an army. It was credit to their resilience that they did not just give up and open the doors.

Boom.

The pole slammed into the doors again, and this time, they nearly gave way. It was tantalizingly close, so close that the dwarves could almost smell their impending doom, just as the orcs could just taste their coming victory.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The pole slammed into the doors for one final time, and then they burst open. The dwarves fought valiantly, but still they could not win. They fought and they fought, but one by one they all fell.

The dwarves of Moria fell, men and women and children all, in the Chamber where Balin son of Fundin Lord of Moria laid, and they did not stir.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone!


End file.
